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More Goat Tales

Should goats not choose to lounge about with their bony heads in the fence, they walked through fences like ghosts through walls. Our house was enclosed by a wire fence which was inside the long drive leading up to the house. The pasture presented a third line of fence between the goats and the house. Even the blind goat ran up the diagonal corner brace posts and hopped the fences without even thinking, attaining total access to the whole place. Goats are perpetually in love. None of this fencing got between goats and their aim in life, copulating before as many onlookers as possible: ministers, prissy ladies, and small children, in that order. The tiniest of window ledges presented no problem should the company be saintly enough. Goats crashed my six-year-sister’s birthday party, indulging in a lurid love fest on the lawn, giving the kiddies an eye full till we got it broken up. One morning as the school bus driver impatiently honked for us, a huge Billy Goat chased his lady friend onto the hood of the school bus, consummating their relationship then and there, to the joy of the kids on the bus. Thank goodness, that indiscretion was enough to finally put an end to the goat herd.

My niece wanted goats as a Christmas present one year, and her parents obliged with three juvenile kids. The threesome lasted about a month, when they trip-trapped over one car too many and suddenly the farm was declared a goat-free zone. Even my niece wasn’t sorry to see them go.

I can see where that would cause a problem. I now understand the Greek mythology and its teaching that Pan, half man and half goat, was the god of fertility and was associated with sexuality. 😀 — Suzanne

Hilariously funny i love this, you painted the picture well. Similar to my story as it happens.
We had two men arrive to purchase a motorbike, my husband invited them in for tea as he concluded the deal. They stood flabbergasted at the sight of a dog fox and his Vixen procreating in the paddock behind the house. One mounting gave him the taste and turned her into a harlot as not one but ten consumations took place… i know the number well, as the beardy belly rubbing bikers counted out loud each one. They were Towns folk and I had the feeling rural Somerset was not what they were used to.